


summon all the courage you require

by Kirjavi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (i love them), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, john and alex are angry little drunken children, this fic ignores the plot of both the musical and history and i think that's an accomplishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 21:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7238425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirjavi/pseuds/Kirjavi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton had never exactly been to a GSA meeting before, but he was pretty damn sure that they weren't supposed to involve alcohol, homophobia, and a fistfight. Not that he was complaining, of course. This was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he punched the bursar.</p>
<p>A college AU in which John and Alex are too drunk for their own good and Lee is an asshole (and no one is surprised).</p>
            </blockquote>





	summon all the courage you require

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlitdreamscapes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlitdreamscapes/gifts).



> Just a quick heads-up: there is a homophobic asshole in this fic (I think you can guess who) who gets punched in the face. If that's not something you're into, I don't think this is the fic you're looking for.

_New message from: RedefiningBravery1776_

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_Hey, good luck on your first day of college. You’ll do fine, if I know you at all. Let me know how it goes_

_You said:_

_Thanks, man. Talk to you later_

 

*

 

Alexander Hamilton was thoroughly convinced that, if it were not for the four or so cups of coffee he had drank that morning, he would be keeling over in his seat.

If it were not for the fact that he was here, sitting in this very chair, listening to this very lecture, he would not have believed that anyone could have made Current Events this unbelievably boring.

Alex slumped over in his desk, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table as he only half-listened to Professor Seabury droning on and on about how the immigrant crisis was only a front for terrorist invasions and resisted the urge to pound his head against the desk. That would only draw attention to him, and as a first-year, immigrant, late-coming orphan with just enough money to buy a twelve-pack of instant ramen, that was the exact opposite of what he needed at the moment. For the first time in his life, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

It was, unsurprisingly, harder than he thought, and as the professor dropped his feeble attempt at teaching and began to segue into how this generation was oversensitive, Alex rolled his eyes so hard he feared for his eyesight and checked his phone. He let out a disappointed huff of air when he found no new notifications and returned his phone to his pocket, resigned to suffering his way through another hour and twenty minutes of hell.

It was harder than he’d anticipated, coming in this late. Even though he’d only gotten here a few weeks late, that was plenty of time for everyone to find their own groups and friends, leaving him the lone outsider.

His roommate wasn’t exactly the most welcoming person, which made things even harder. He had texted his friend about him, furious, right after their first night sharing the same room.

_Do you know what that apathetic, pacifist excuse for a roommate told me?_ he had typed furiously as he had walked towards his first class.

_What? OMG, do I need to track you down and fight someone?_ came the quick response.

_He told me to shut up and smile more, Brave, what kind of half-assed passive-aggressive statement is that?_

_IDK, Publius, he kind of reminds me of someone I know, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to share a room with him._

Still, sharing a room with Aaron “Fake Smile” Burr was the least of his problems. He planned to do a double major in economics and law, but that wasn’t the problem either. No, he could write for days on end with less than five hours of sleep and still turn out essays good enough to be published in the New Yorker. The workload wasn’t the problem. No, the problem was his social life, or rather, the lack thereof.

He had never had a group of friends before. As a kid in the Caribbean, he was either working or reading or helping his mother, leaving no time for a bastard, orphan, son of a whore to make friends. There was a million things he hadn’t done, and before he graduated he wanted to go out and get absolutely hammered with people he actually liked at least once.

Consequently, when Seabury’s class came to an actually painful end, Alex went back to his dorm and did something he never wanted to have to do.

He opened the door, thumping it a bit when it stuck, and said, “Burr.”

Burr looked up from whatever boring textbook he was filling his boring head with and fixed a smile on his boring face. “Yes, Hamilton?”

Alex gritted his teeth and said, “I need some advice.”

 

*

 

_You said:_

_You’ll be proud of me, my dear Brave_

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_Is that so? You must elaborate, my dear Publius_

_You said:_

_I asked my asshole roommate if he had any idea where the ‘cool kids’ hang out and he agreed to take me to a GSA meeting. Outside. With actual people. The very opposite of how I generally spend my free time_

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_All right, all right, that’s what I’m talking about! I’m part of the GSA at my college and it’s great! I think you’ll love it!_

_You said:_

_Yeah, as long as no one cracks any ‘bisexuals are just greedy’ jokes._

_You said:_

_I am super excited though_

 

*

 

When night rolled around, Alex pulled himself away from his laptop with some regret (these assholes on Twitter needed to be called out, dammit, and if no one was going to defend Ke$ha on his feed then by God he was going to do it) and followed Burr out the door.

“So,” he said, running a bit to catch up to Burr (who walked as if he didn’t want to be seen with an orphan immigrant hanging on his tail), “who’s going to be at this GSA?”

Burr responded without looking at him, “It’s led by Professor Washington.” They began making their way towards the series of classrooms near their dorms, dusk falling around them as they walked.

At the mention of the professor, Alex’s eyes brightened and he began bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Professor Washington?” he exclaimed. “He’s my advisor, I love him!”

“Yeah, you and about half the kids in his classes,” Burr said drily as they entered the building. “That guy’s like a magnet for misfits and outsiders, it’s like he adopts them all or something.”

The building was dark, with all of the classrooms empty and quiet. Burr led him deeper into the building, and Alex was beginning to wonder if this was all just an elaborate prank when they came into sight of a lone lit classroom, voices and fluorescent light spilling out of the open door like the college equivalent of a halo.

Burr led him as far as the door and stopped. “I just want to warn you,” he said quietly, before they entered. “The people here are. . . _energetic_.”

Alex blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but a voice from inside the classroom beat him to it.

“Well, if it ain’t the pride of King’s College, Aaron Burr!” shouted a voice that was either slightly drunk, high, or otherwise intoxicated. “Come on in, we’re discussing the disgusting amount of queer ladies getting killed off in media.”

The speaker came into view and Alex cocked an eyebrow. The man currently attempting to persuade his roommate to join whatever half-drunken debate currently sweeping the room was, for lack of any other word, gorgeous. Wide-set, earnest eyes set amidst a starscape of freckles and bright white teeth grinned unabashedly at them with the benevolent happiness of the slightly tipsy, and Alex felt a smile begin to tug at his lips.

Burr, fool that he was, seemed unaffected by the actual living angel in front of them and brushed off the invitation. “A pleasure, as always, Laurens,” he said, a tired, tight smile already on his face. “But I really should be going. There’s someone I’ve been meaning to call, and—.”

“Come on, Burr, this is important stuff,” the man—Laurens?— wheedled. “What are you waiting for? What do you stall for?”

“If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?” Alex said, looking at his roommate askance. Call him absurd, but he had written his way out of poverty writing about what he believed in. It was hard for him to respect those who did not hold strong beliefs and wear them on their shirtsleeves.

Laurens turned to him as if he had seen him for the first time. “Who are you?” he asked. His voice, now that Alex was at the receiving end of it, had a faint Southern drawl.

Alex smiled, unbidden, and reached out to shake his hand. The other man’s grip was warm and firm, and he said, “Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton.”

Laurens’ grip tightened on his hand and before he knew it, Alex was pulled into something of a side hug, a strong, warm arm wrapped around his shoulders and a strong, warm laugh in his ears. “John Laurens. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied, something he refused to name as a blush staining his cheeks.

Laurens—John—laughed and pulled him into the classroom. As the door closed behind them, he didn’t even notice Burr slipping away.

 

*

 

He had half a mind to text his friend. Something asking if his GSA meetings were quite so loud or quite so—how did John put it? _Lit_.

Alex had never quite been to a GSA meeting like this (although he had to admit that he hadn’t been to many in the first place). For starters, there was quite a bit more alcohol involved than he expected, Professor Washington seemed to be nowhere in sight, and the atmosphere was altogether far more casual than he’d assumed.

John pulled him into the room, leading him to a table near the back. A group of nine or so other people were gathered there, passionately discussing a topic, presumably the dearth (or was it death?) of queer women in media.

John sat down at the table and beckoned Alex down. The whole group shuffled their chairs to accommodate him, and someone called out, “Laurens, who’s this kid? What’s he gonna do?”

“Found him with Burr,” John responded. “He’s new here.”

A woman sitting at the head of the table nodded. “Nice to have you here,” she said. “Even if you did show up with Burr.” She met his eyes with a dark, intelligent gaze and Alex found himself liking her. She had dark, curly hair and a piercing, authoritative voice, and without knowing why, Alex knew she was the leader of the group.

“Well,” she said, looking around at the group. “As stand-in president of the GSA while Washington’s out, I think we should all go around and state our names and orientations.” She looked around, waiting for anyone to disagree, then nodded. “I’ll go first. My name is Angelica Schuyler, and I identify as pansexual.” 

Simultaneously, the entire group chorused back at her, “Hi, Angelica” a la Alcoholics Anonymous. Angelica rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

She looked around. “Who’s next?”

The next few minutes passed as the other eight-odd people introduced themselves in a flurry of call-and-response names, orientations, and greetings. His brain began whirring as he catalogued each name, filing away each new person introduced. It felt good to know new people.

“Eliza Schuyler, bi.”

“Peggy Schuyler, aromantic pansexual.”

“Charles Lee, straight.”

“Lafayette, pan.”

“Hercules Mulligan, bi.”

“James Madison, straight.”

“Thomas Jefferson, straight and you know it, Angelica.” This was met with an aggrieved sigh from Angelica and a suppressed snort from Madison.

When it came to Alex’s turn, the group fell silent, turning their eyes to the one stranger in their midst. For once in his life, Alexander Hamilton was tongue-tied. There was so much he wanted to say, and finally, he had people to say them to. As the silence teetered on the edge of being awkward, he narrowed his thoughts down to eight words. “Alex Hamilton,” he finally blurted out. “Bi. It’s nice to be here.”

“Hi, Alex,” they chanted back, and just like that, it was done. He was in. He sat back and grinned, and next to him John thumped his shoulder, cackling.

“All right, all right, that’s what I’m talking about,” John crowed gleefully, taking a swig from a bottle that had miraculously appeared in his hand.

Alex accepted the bottle shoved into his own hand and took a sip absentmindedly. His brain had hit a snag—something about John seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite pin it down, much to his irritation. He put it out of his mind for the moment and refocused on the conversation at hand.

“I’m just saying, if straight people were getting killed off as quickly as queer women on TV, the hets would be pissed, y’know?” Angelica was saying, brushing dark hair out of her face decisively.

“Look, darling—” Lee cut in. Alex could feel the group’s collective hackles rise and he raised an eyebrow. Looked like he just found a new character to personally roast as Publius.

“—I think y’all should just be happy that you have representation in the first place,” Lee said, evidently proud of himself for thinking up this oh-so-astute argument. “I mean, aren’t you only, like, five percent of the population? You guys basically don’t even exist.”

To say the room exploded would have been an understatement.

In a flash, John and Alex were on their feet and yelling, pissed as hell.Eliza and Peggy stood up alongside Hercules and Lafayette, fists clenched and furious. Even Jefferson and Madison looked up, shocked. Angelica remained in her seat, an icy rage covering her face, and if looks could kill, Charles Lee would have been six feet under. 

“What the _fuck_ , Lee, you shut your goddamn _face_ ,” Alex spat, teeth bared.

“How _dare_ you, what the _hell_ , man,” John was howling right next to him, fists clenched. “Why you even _in_ this club if you sayin’ shit like that?”

Both slightly drunk and ready to fight, they were both fully prepared to launch themselves at Lee’s sneering face until they were pulled back by the scruffs of their shirts by Hercules.

Alex squirmed, attempting to break Hercules’ grip, until Lafayette grabbed his shoulder and whispered in a heavily-accented voice, “Hush, _mon ami_. Angelica is speaking.”

The room fell silent as Angelica stood, Eliza and Peggy flanking her like a gang leader and her muscle. Alex and John stopped struggling, and even the ugly sneer on Lee’s face slid a little when he saw her.

“Charles Lee,” said Angelica, sheer disgust in her voice. “You are the biggest fucking dick in the world. You are so full of shit I’m amazed your eyes aren’t brown and ever since you came here, you’ve treated this club like a joke. You need to leave. Now.”

Lee got up, lips curled back in an ugly sneer, and kicked his chair. It landed with a crash on the other side of the room, but no one flinched. He gave a wordless growl of frustration and stomped to the door. Before he left, Lee managed to piss Alex off even further and snapped, “Fuck all you freaks of nature” before spitting at Angelica’s feet and storming out.

A stunned, disgusted silence filled the room as not even John or Alex could work up the words strong enough to describe their rage. It was finally broken by Jefferson’s “Whaaaaat” and the room exploded into sound once more.

“Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe he just _said_ that,” John seethed, running a hand through his hair in frustration and beginning to pace.

Alex began pacing right next to him, hands balling up into fists as he talked. “We can’t just let him say that and walk away, can we?” he asked Angelica, frustration plain in his voice. “He needs to be called out.”

She sat back down in her chair, carefully controlling the anger in her voice until she sounded calmer. “I can’t do anything about Lee,” she said quietly. “He’s just a dick who lies throwing slurs around.”

Eliza chimed in, “Unless he does something like vandalism or threats or a hate crime, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“But. . .” Angelica said slowly. In something Alex could only describe as sisterly telepathy, the Schuyler sisters exchanged conspiratorial smiles as the came to the same conclusion.

Alex came to a stop and stared at them. After a second, John came to a halt next to him, “What?” they asked in unison.

“ _I_ can’t do anything as stand in leader of the club,” Angelica said slowly. “And, of course, I’m not condoning violence, because good God, how barbaric would it be to fight someone over a simple slur, but I mean. . .”

Eliza cut in again, a surprisingly wicked smile on her sweet face. “If he was to have some sort of accident. . .”

Peggy picked up the thread. “Or if, God forbid, he got into a bar fight or something. . .”

The Schuyler sisters grinned in unison and the smile soon spread to Alex and John. “Okay. . .” Alex said slowly, thinking it over and finding that he liked the idea. “I’m done for this—oh shit, hang on.”

“What?” asked John.

“I can’t get involved.” Alex wrinkled his nose and cursed quietly, disappointed he wouldn’t be able to punch Lee in his smug face. “My advisor told me not to get in trouble or I’d risk losing my scholarship.”

“Then I’ll do it.” John stood up next to him, determination plain in the set of his jaw.

Alex grinned and bumped his shoulder against John’s. “I’ll go with you,” he promised. “I want to see that jerk get his ass handed to him.”

“Let’s fuckin’ do this,” John yelled next to him, ready to fight.

As they headed out the door, they heard Hercules yell “Tear that dude apart!” and they walked out the door from a room full of cheers.

 

*

 

They found Lee outside a bar off campus, drinking with his friends and cracking the kind of jokes that would get you socially lampooned on Tumblr.

Alex started toward their table immediately, hackles raised, but John was quick to pull him back.

“Hang on, man,” he said, pulling Alex back by the shoulder and glaring at the table in front of them. “In King’s College, there’s a way you gotta do stuff like this.”

Alex’s interest piqued, he looked back at John and tried not to think about his hand on his shoulder. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“We duel,” John answered, glaring at Lee.

“What?” Alex was thoroughly confused now, which didn’t happen often. “Aren’t duels kind of. . . I don’t know, dumb and immature?”

John shrugged and turned back to the bar. “Lee’s gotta answer for his words, though.”

“Damn right,” Alex agreed, and they made their way up to Lee’s table.

“Lee, you wanna take back that shit you said?” John yelled once they were in earshot.

They watched as Lee smirked and muttered something to his buddies. They laughed and Lee turned to John and Alex, still smirking. “Aw, did I hurt your widdle feewings, fairy boy?”

His friends laughed uproariously and for a second Alex thought John flinched, but when he looked up at his face it was eerily composed. John took a deep breath, his fists clenched at his sides. Lee laughed from afar, seeing the composure on John’s face, and next to him, Alex saw red. He nearly launched himself at Lee right then and there, but John’s hand on his shoulder held him back.

“Hey, man, you want to settle this?” John yelled, something in his face calm and controlled, but excited.

For the first time, Lee looked serious. He stood up and walked closer, until they were only a few feet away. He jutted his chin out scornfully and crossed his arms. “You got a second?” he challenged.

John tilted his chin up, meeting the challenge. He nodded to Alex, who stood up straight and tried his best to look menacing. “Yup. You?”

Lee looked over his shoulder and picked out one of his cronies. “Edwards, you want to help me show these freaks their place?”

One of the men behind him nodded in response and walked forward to stand at Lee’s side. Alex immediately began sizing the man up, ready for anything that might happen.

John nodded. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

Lee turned to confer with his second and John spun around to face Alex. “Okay,” he said, something of a mad glint in his eyes. “This is what we’re going to do.”

Alex was still confused and it was beginning to irritate him. “What do I do as a second? What does a second do?”

“You talk with Edwards, try to come to a compromise.”

“But I don’t want a compromise, I want Lee to get his ass kicked,” Alex protested.

John threw his head back and laughed at that, actually laughed, and helpless, Alex smiled. “Yeah, I know,” he said as he tied his hair back out of his face. “That’s why you shouldn’t try so hard.”

Alex grinned. “Perfect.”

It is an unspoken truth that those with quick minds bullshit the best, and it wasn’t hard for Alex to come up with some flimsy reason against dueling that Edwards tore apart with predictable ease. There is a quiet, sly joy in seeing your opponent smugly believe they beat you while they solidify their own downfall, and especially satisfying when the aforementioned opponent is a homophobic dick.

By the time the “negotiations” are done, Lee is practically frothing at the mouth and John is just laughing, impatient and ready to fight.

“You ready to get your ass handed to you, bitch?” Lee finally growled across the empty space of lawn they’d chosen for the duel.

“Bring it on, you dick,” John yelled. “Here, take my phone,” he said to Alex, tossing him an iPhone with a badly-cracked screen. “I unlocked it already. Text the Gay Squad that I’m gonna kick Lee’s ass outside the Law building. Can you hang onto it while I take care of this?”

Alex caught it after a slight fumble and did as he asked, sending a text off into a groupchat containing everyone in the GSA. He tucked it into the pocket of his hoodie, where it’d be safe, where it’d be safe. “John,” he said after a slight hesitation, watching the other man make sure his hair was tied back out of his face.

“Yeah?” He looked back at him, eyes alight with the excitement of the oncoming fight, and Alex physically felt his heart thump in his chest.

“Be. . . careful, okay?” he managed to say. “If you have a chance to hit him, take it. Don’t throw away your shot.”

John laughed again, like pure sunlight distilled into sound, and something in the way he spoke then reminded Alex of someone, a name just sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Oh, my dear Alexander,” he said lightly. “I’m going to punch that son of a bitch right in his ugly nose.”

In a surprisingly short amount of time, Lee’s cohorts were joined by the members of the GSA. The tension was not so much visible as it rose up out of the carefully-kept space between the two groups and slapped you in the face. It was like the two gangs from West Side Story, only without the singing.

“All right, folks, you all know why we’re here,” Angelica yelled, her voice carrying over the quiet muttering blocking out the noises of the night. “Lee over here said some shit—” she paused for a few scattered whoops from his friends—“and we’re here to put an end to all of this. Are you ready?”

The gathering crowd screamed and, caught up in the rush of adrenaline, Alex yelled along with him.

A gap formed in the crowd as Lee and John circled each other, one tall and hulking, the other light on his feet, streetlight glow in his hair like a halo.

A count began, chanted quietly then growing to a roar as the numbers grew.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine—!”

 

*

 

It was all over far quicker than expected.

The moment ten was called, John had slipped to the side, nearly missing Lee’s punch, and caught him, just as he had said, in the nose.

And just like that, the entire matter was settled. Lee cast one final glare at the members of the GSA and stormed off, one hand gingerly cupping his bloody nose and the other flipping them off.

John came back to them hands raised high like a conquering hero, sporting the beginnings of a magnificent black eye and a triumphant, adrenaline-charged grin on his star-studded face. They swarmed around him in a flurry of hands and grins, the buzz of victory hot in the air.

“Now _that’s_ what I call upholding the gay agenda!” Peggy yelled, holding out her phone for a selfie. Everyone crowded in around her, grinning broadly at the camera, and when the flash went off a laugh went around the group, passing through them like wildfire.

“Hey, it’s been too good of a night to go back to the club,” Angelica yelled. “Drinks are on me!”

When they reached the bar they took over two entire tables by themselves, talking loud and excited like the young who know themselves to be immortal. The bartender, wiping down the bar by herself, gave them a cursory once-over, eyes lingering on the evidently fresh bruise on John’s face, and sighed. These kids and their temporary wars.

Alex, still riding on the high from the fight, felt like he was in some other world, a place where even orphan immigrants could make a difference. He laughed and talked in a haze, content, for the first time in a long time, to be right where he was.

When a lull in the conversation came around, he rapidly composed a text to his friend and sent it off.

_You said:_

_Well, my first GSA meeting involved alcohol, a homophobic dick getting punched in the face, and a v e r y attractive puncher. I think coming here was a good idea._

A little while after he sent the text, John’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he realized he still hadn’t given it back. “Hey, John,” he called across the table. When John looked up, Alex passed the phone back to its owner. Their fingers accidentally brushed, and it was the most cliched thing in the world, but God, his skin felt electric.

John grinned at him, shoving the phone into the pocket of his jeans. “Hey, who were you just texting? Your girlfriend? Boyfriend?” He drew those last words out teasingly, but either Alex was flattering himself or there was a note of genuine curiosity in John’s voice.

“Just this guy I met online,” Alex replied, tucking his own phone back in his pocket

John’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned forward. “So what was it?” he asked, laughing. “Eharmony? Match.com? You swipe right on someone?”

Alex rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “No, we met over Twitter and ended up bonding over the portrayal of the Black Lives Matter movement on the news. We’ve been texting ever since. We, ah—” Alex looked down, fiddled with the edge of his hoodie. “We’ve helped each other through some shit, him coming out and my—” he tapped his finger against his temple, a wry smile on his face “—flashbacks, so to speak. Even though I don’t know his name, I’d like to think we’re friends.”

Under his freckles, John had gone pale, like he’d seen a ghost. Around them, the other members of the club talked and laughed just as loudly as before, but for a split second it seemed as if they existed in a bubble of silence.

“John?” Alex dared to say. “You okay?” He peered into his eyes, worried he had said something wrong, but all he could see was gold-brown around the black of his pupils.

John tore his eyes away and Alex felt their gazes disconnect like a slap in the face. He mumbled something along the lines of “I have to go” and before Alex could even move from his seat, he was gone.

Alex sat there, stunned, and a picture began building in his mind.

John. His passion for society’s underdogs. The way he talked. How determined he was to make a difference. How violently he reacted to what had just been said. John.

Alex muttered a sloppy goodbye and bolted out the door.

 

*

 

_You said:_

_Are you who I think you are?_

_You said:_

_Where are you?_

_You said:_

_Can we talk?_

_You said:_

_Please answer me_

_You said:_

_Brave?_

_You said:_

_John?_

 

*

 

Alex found him a little before midnight, pacing the place where, just a few hours ago, he had punched Lee in the face.

The darkening bruise on the side of his face made it look as if one side of his face was covered in shadows, and Alex hurried to him, concerned.

He lurched forward on legs somehow lacking their usual energy and just barely managed to stop himself from reaching out and touching John’s face.

“That has got to hurt,” Alex tried, a feeble attempt to break the awkwardness that suddenly stood between them.

John still did not turn to look at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile, then back down again.

“Hey,” Alex tried again, growing worried. “John? Can we talk?”

John still did not speak, but he tilted his face toward him, letting the moonlight slide across his face like a caress.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Alex asked. “Brave.”

John laughed at that, a tight, sardonic not-laugh, and said, “And you’re Publius.” His voice was raspy, as if he had been screaming, but Alex was simply relieved that John was talking to him again.

“Yes!” he said, delighted to hear his voice again no matter how scratchy. “Yes, I am, and you’re here, and I know who you are, and—”

“Alex.” Something in John’s voice was off and it only took Alex a few seconds to realize it was the absence of of the light-hearted humor he had grown so used to in his voice. He was completely serious and Alex began to get worried again.

“Yeah?”

“Can I—” John held up his phone and Alex understood immediately.

“Yeah—yeah, of course.” Some things were easier to type out than say.

John sat down on the ground, and after hesitating only a bit Alex joined him, leaning against the warm curve of his spine.

_RedefingBravery1776 said:_

_Man, I like you a lot_

_You said:_

_I like you a lot too_

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_No like I r e a l l y like you_

_You said:_

_Oh_

Alex felt John’s spine stiffen against his and he almost looked around, alarmed, but he could still hear the soft tapping of the iPhone’s keyboard, so he held himself back.

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_I’m so sorry you probably don’t feel the same way I’m really sorry this is really awkward but you’re the only person who knows i can’t even tell my family you can do anything i’ll give you whatever you want just please please don’t tell anyone_

_You said:_

_Oh my god John no listen i’d never do anything like that that’d be disgusting and immoral and terrible_

_You said:_

_I’m sorry but can i just talk i can’t type fast enough_

Alex felt John nod behind him and took a deep breath, ready to blurt out anything and everything he could possibly say to reassure him, to convince him that after being there for him through everything, he couldn’t possibly do that to him, then stopped abruptly. Pressed against him, John was shaking. Something hard and hot and sick swelled up in Alex’s throat and he let go of everything he was planning to say in one great _whoosh_ of air.

“John,” he started, quietly, “listen. I like you a lot too. Like, stupid a lot. And I swear to God I will never, _ever_ tell anyone if you don’t want me to. I mean, even if I _wanted_ to, how could I do something like that to the person who talked me through all of those panic attacks and nightmares?”

Silence.

Then Alex’s phone went off.

He fumbled for it too quickly and it slid further away from him. He cursed and grabbed for it again with hurried hands.

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_I’m not brave_

_RedefiningBravery1776 said:_

_But I would like to have this_

Alex’s head shot up too quickly and he got a cramp in his neck. A jittering hopefulness began shooting through his veins and he blurted out, “Yes, anything you want, friends, more than that, just like, I don’t know, platonic cuddling buddies, I don’t care, whatever you want—”

Then, too fast to react to, John was in front of him and his lips were on his and he tasted like fire and honey and something indescribably and indisputably _John_ and he was so _warm_ and _close_ and—

When John pulled away Alex whimpered, actually _whimpered_ , and John was smiling, a quiet, shy little smile so different from his triumphant grin from before.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and his freckles were almost hidden by the blush blooming across his cheeks.

“More than okay, come here—” and they were kissing again, something hot and fierce kindling in his belly that felt like flying, and it was _perfect_ —

But Alex pulled himself away, albeit reluctantly, and looked at John (decidedly not focusing more on his swollen lips and the glorious curling mane about his head than his equally glorious eyes) and asked, “Is this what you want? Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you or anyth—”

“You talk too much,” he breathed, and kissed him again. It was so good. It had been so good every time.

When they broke apart again the smile on John’s face had grown past the tiny flickering candle-flame into the great blazing bonfire of before, and helpless, it spread to Alex’s face until they were laughing, foreheads pressed together in a dizzying swirl of late-night giddiness.

“So,” John said, forehead still pressed against Alex, his breath ghosting against his lips with every word. “You think I’m a, what was it, a very attractive puncher?”

Alex laughed the kind of full-body, belly-aching laugh he’d been missing for too long, and he hugged John close to him until he could hear the steady thump of his big, brave heart under his ear. John kissed him again, a feather-light touch on his forehead like a blessing, and all was right with the world, and if Professor Washington called him into the office the next day with a thunderous scowl on his face and a blurry video of John kicking Lee’s ass, well.

Look at how lucky he was to be alive right now.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday fic for my dear starlitdreamscapes! Everyone check out her fics, they're super good!
> 
> (PS: Burr left early to go call Theodosia)


End file.
